


Alone

by mbe



Series: To The Stars [1]
Category: Interstellar (2014)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mbe/pseuds/mbe
Summary: Imagining of what led Dr. Mann to the Lazarus missions. Based on Interstellar (2014) and prequel comic Absolute Zero. Alternate ending to follow in future fics.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote this three years ago, I remembered reading somewhere that used "Everett" as Dr. Mann's first name and just kind of rolled with it.
> 
> Comments are appreciated as I work through this 3-year-old fic with the hopes of improving it.

Everett Mann considered himself a logical person. He’d thought about it, and it was a safe conclusion: he didn’t see a point in getting a girlfriend; why repopulate a dying Earth? Nor did Mann see a reason to continue his education past high school—there was no need. You didn’t need a degree to grow food, although at this point, farming seemed harder a task than becoming a doctor or engineer—things boys Mann’s age aspired to be fifty years ago.

 

Mann recalled his grandfather recounting tales of a time when people didn’t have to pray to an unremorseful god that this year’s harvest would come through. You could simply walk into a store and let the sights and smells bombard your senses. And you didn’t have to grow anything yourself. There was an endless variety of foods to choose from, and the amount of it seemed infinite.

 

But as Mann had seen throughout his childhood, the supply of food was finite, and every year that his father burned a dying and diseased crop was a painful reminder of that fact.

 

Everett’s father had been a strong, sturdy, resourceful person; one he looked up to. The elder Mann always seemed able to see the positive side of any situation; if the blight attacked and destroyed their potatoes one year, he’d always simply shrug and tell his son, “We still have other crops, Everett. We can survive so long as we can eat—food is for fuel, not for pleasure.”

 

But in the end, the blight caught up to Everett’s father, and after the destruction of three more crops, there seemed to be nothing but corn and wheat left. 

 

In spite of this, Mann’s father wasn’t fazed. “So long as I can put food on this table, we are luckier than most,” he’d tell his small family during mealtimes. Everett—an only child—would listen quietly to tales of how his father had lived when he was a child. It wasn’t as luxurious as how his grandfather had lived, granted, but it already seemed an improvement.

 

It had been almost ten years since the horrific dust storms which plagued the town had claimed the life of Everett’s father. Lung disease had long since topped the list of leading causes of death in the country, an unfortunate effect of the dust and ash in the air. It was the one thing the elder Mann could not outsmart; Mother Nature always had the upper hand. That had frustrated Everett; at seven years of age, it was hard for a child to understand that the Earth could ever be so intelligent as to strike down his own father.

 

Now seventeen, Mann watched his widowed mother grow weaker and sicker from the same wicked dust that had killed her husband.

 

After his father’s death, Everett often looked up at the sky at night; the senior Mann had often pointed out constellations and dimly-lit planets, telling his son, “We are just a tiny, insignificant part of billions of galaxies—there are so many other worlds out there.”

 

“Could we live on them?” Everett had asked one night, increasingly aware, even at a young age, of the Earth’s struggle to support life.

 

His father'd shrugged. “Perhaps,” he’d allowed, “but it would take some brave—or crazy—soul to go out there and check for us.”

 

Everett thought about this for a moment. He’d often simply accepted what his father had said as fact, something not to be disputed or mulled over. But Everett did not want to simply let the possibility of living in another galaxy go. Childhood innocence getting the better of him, he declared, “When I grow up, I think I’ll go looking.”

 

But when he turned around, his father had left, leaving the young boy looking out at a sad, diseased crop of wheat, reminding him that the most useful thing he could ever be in this society was a farmer, just like everyone around him.


	2. Chapter 2

With the world more and more desperate for farmers, and less and less for other professions, universities one by one closed down, until only one remained in the state. Your final marks had to be in the high nineties, if not a perfect hundred, to get in, and even then your chances of getting in depended on what program you desired. General practitioners and surgeons were okay, welcomed even—but engineers, anyone involved in arts, any form of profession that involved long-term research—were considered a waste of resources. Why spend money to make new discoveries and machines if everyone was dead from starvation?

 

Mann was a smart kid, intelligent. Unlike the majority of his peers, he questioned what he was being taught. When he was younger, he’d been told that the first lunar landing was faked. Something about that unsettled him; surely if we could get a plane in the sky, we could put a man on the Moon? Why not? It had determined that man could not survive there—and to Everett, that meant we had to look elsewhere for a new home. Despite retaining a small part of his childhood dream—finding a new world for human existence to continue—he had grown to accept it was unlikely. NASA had been shut down decades ago, and any habitable worlds, Mann knew, were light years away, far beyond reasonable reach. Mann was now growing to accept that his destiny lay in the dying fields of his late father. And tending to his ailing mother, who was slowly but surely suffocating in her bed from the dust-laden air.

 

So it came as a huge surprise when he was called down to his school’s head office and informed that the state’s only surviving university had seen his final scores and were highly interested in having him study there.

 

Mann couldn’t believe what he was hearing—surely, there had been a mistake? Yes, he had studied, put effort into his examinations, but…

 

What now? Mann thought. There were so few options. And even if he did go and study at post-secondary, who would tend to his family farm? He doubted he could balance both. What program would he even select? There weren’t many to begin with—a concern he voiced to the dean of his school.

 

“Not to worry,” he told Everett. “You can sleep on it, take some time to think it over.”

 

With that issue temporarily resolved, and out of his mind for now, Mann returned home with the intention of doing what he always did: taking his father’s tractor and sowing he corn fields—the only crop still standing. Make dinner for himself and his mother. Go to bed, and only then would he let himself ponder about what he wanted to do with the rest of his life—his head always stuck in a book, or peeking out from stalks of corn?

 

He arrived home, dumping his knapsack on the kitchen able. “I’m home!” he called out to his mother upstairs. 

 

Normally, he’d hear a fit of coughing in return, but this time, there was no reply.

 

“Ma…!” he shouted again, concerned this time, almost as though he was bracing himself for what he would find.

 

Mann rushed upstairs, already knowing the truth. He’d known this day was coming for a while, but having it actually arrive was something entirely different.

 

There, in bed, lay the still body of his mother, his only surviving family member, yet another victim of an ever-merciless Earth.

 

Mann stood by the bed for a moment, allowing this new reality to set in. Logically, practically, he knew what he would do. His mother’s body would be buried out back beside his father’s and grandfather’s. But what really struck Mann was that now, there was nothing to hold him back. The farm would only sustain him for a short while; he knew he needed a true source of income.

 

But Mann was not about to get a job for the sake of doing so. He would pursue a career he wanted. And now, truly realizing and accepting how this planet had stolen the life of another member of his family, he allowed the kid dream of finding somewhere out there to live, to resurface. He, Everett Mann, wanted, in that very moment, to save the human race.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ridiculous,” the dean nearly shouted when Mann informed him of what he wanted to study. “There is no need, Everett, for these kinds of professions.”

 

Mann had known his chance of succeeding at telling his principal that he wanted to be an astronaut was slim to none. So he’d settled on physics—something he knew would be necessary to get to where he wanted. If he could understand physics, the world around him and how it worked, he could very well comprehend how to get himself out in space. He’d get a Ph.D., and see what he could do from there; he’d always thought “Dr. Mann” sounded important, like someone to be respected. He like that, the feeling of being important.

 

But physics, as he’d suspected, was a no-go. At the very best, Mann could go into bioengineering, to try and create disease resistant food for people to eat—for people to eat on this planet, in this solar system. 

 

Mann didn’t like that idea; once he had his heart set on something, it was hard for him to let go. The dean seemed to recognize this, and suggested to Everett that he wait a little longer to select something. “We’ve got professors from the university coming down in a couple of days. Why don’t you talk to someone then? Maybe find something you actually like.”

 

Mann nodded, but he knew that the dean’s gentle recommendation was simply a polite way of saying that physics was, and never would be, an option.

 

As Mann left the school’s office, visions of dust storms and a slowly dying corn crop flashed through his mind. The Earth was not capable of sustaining life for much longer—was no one thinking of this? The Universe was infinite; surely there was one planet out here capable of being reached and inhabited?


	4. Chapter 4

The number of programs available to students diminished every year, as the need for farmers grew. This year, there were six. Six small booths were set up in the gymnasium, each with a smiling representative trying to get some students interested in their program.

 

Mann walked by each, trying to decide what he wanted. He knew it wouldn’t be hard—it was a matter of picking the one he disliked the least. He was about to walk up to Bioengineering when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

 

It was a man, in his late fifties, Everett guessed, dressed smartly, clearly someone who was involved with teaching—Everett could make out a pocket protector in shirt. The man stood off to the side, alone, hands in his pockets. Everett had never seen him before, and curiosity got the better of him. He quietly left the small group of bustling students to go and discover who this individual was and what he was up to.

 

“Hello, there,” Everett began, as the man turned to face him, “I’m—”

 

“You must be Everett Mann,” he interjected, startling and surprising the young student.

 

“How did—?”

 

The older man chuckled. “The dean here warned me of a brilliant and curious—yet sometimes too curious—young student here.” He turned to look at the students speaking to professors; not one of them had turned to look where Everett had gone.

 

“You’re the only one who’s walked up to me so far. That tells me nothing here appeals to you—otherwise you’d be right there and trying to get into the program of your choice,” the man continued.

 

“It doesn’t,” Mann allowed, “but if that’s the case, then who are you for?”

 

“NASA,” he replied simply.

 

Mann nearly laughed out loud. “They shut you down years ago and now you show up here, out of the blue?”

 

“Did you really think you could shut down an organization that sent a man to the Moon?”

 

Mann paused, looked at the individual before him, and reflected on what he’d just been told. NASA had not shut down? Then…

 

“My name is John Brand,” the man went on, “and if you come with me today, I promise you that you will be able to make a difference in humanity, far greater than you could ever imagine.

 

“The only thing I need is your total dedication, Everett,” Brand continued gravely. “You cannot be attached to anyone here, whom you cannot bear to never see again.”

 

Mann already knew his answer; he had nothing left to lose at this point. Here was his chance, a chance offered from NASA themselves. A possibility of saving the human race.

 

Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?

 

“I’ll do it,” Mann replied confidently, and the two men shook hands.


	5. Chapter 5

“So, if you have to operate in secret, how do you know about me?” Mann asked Brand as they walked through a barbed electric fence, smack in the middle of nowhere. He’d packed up his few possessions and left immediately after agreeing to go with Brand. No one could know where he’d gone—it was simply too dangerous. If citizens knew that money was being spent up in space instead of down on Earth…

 

“Well,” Brand replied affably, “I taught physics at the university years ago, before they got rid of the program, during the day. And at night—” he motioned to the immense building they were approaching—“I returned here. I stayed in touch with the professors and the dean of the school, even though they never knew about all of this.”

 

Brand turned to look at Mann. “The administrators there always spoke of their potential students all across the state, and, well, they spoke of you.”

 

“What did they say?”

 

Brand laughed. “Always as inquisitive as ever. They spoke of a student who questioned everything and didn’t know what he wanted to do with himself.” He smiled. “I always jump at the opportunity to see if students like that would be willing to go on my mission.”

 

“Mission?” Mann asked, frowning.

 

“Yes,” Brand continued, “mission. But that’s something my colleagues can explain better than I.”


	6. Chapter 6

Mann entered a room, which, with its half a dozen professionally-dressed scientists, resembled a solemn business meeting. The men wore crisp, button up shirts; the women, conservative work blouses. They looked like they knew what they were doing. Before them, Mann felt very small, insignificant. He wasn’t used to this type of professionalism.

 

“You must be Everett Mann,” one of the men said warmly. “Have a seat. Professor Brand spoke of you.”

 

Mann nodded, sitting down, and tried to look as tall, old as possible. “He spoke of a mission,” he blurted out in anxiety, “what is it?”

 

The scientist looked at Mann, unfazed by the young student’s sudden outburst. “We call them the Lazarus Missions,” he said, smiling. “The short version of this is that just off of Saturn’s orbit lies one of the greatest gravitational anomalies we’ve ever uncovered—a wormhole.”

 

Everett watched as the man pressed a button on a remote to an overhead projector, bringing up a grainy image of a red smear, which Mann supposed was the wormhole.

 

“We’ve sent probes into it, which have determined there are twelve planets within it. We could reach it in two years or so,” the scientist went on, “and the Lazarus Missions plan to identify which worlds can sustain human life.”

 

“You’re not thinking of sending people into it?” Mann exclaimed. All of his childhood Mann had dreamed of this day, this opportunity, and now, faced with it, he couldn’t bring himself to truly accept it as reality.

 

“That’s exactly what we’re thinking,” Professor Brand answered, walking into the room and taking a seat next to Mann. “We need twelve astronauts: one for each world, trained to go into that wormhole and find us a new home.”

 

“But…where do you find twelve astronauts?”

 

Brand smiled. “You don’t. You make them.” He looked into Mann’s eyes. “Which is what I intend to do with you, should you agree to go on this mission.”

 

“I don’t know anything about space travel.”

 

“Of course not,” Brand chuckled, “but we’d train you here for, say, ten to fifteen years. Let you study something relevant to this mission, and train you physically and mentally, then send you on your way.”

 

“What then?” Mann asked, his mind racing, hungry for answers; for every response Brand gave him, it created more questions.

 

Brand thought for a moment. Then, he stood up, placing a hand on Mann’s shoulder. “Come with me, Everett,” he said, “I want to show you something.”


	7. Chapter 7

Mann and Brand entered a large room with four huge –and full—blackboards. Numbers, equations were scrawled out all across them, all incomprehensible to Mann.

 

Brand walked over to a paper-covered desk and sat down. “This is my office,” he said, “and that”—he pointed to the blackboards—“is how we’re going to save humanity.”

 

Mann blinked. This time, he didn’t know where to begin asking questions.

 

Appearing to read Mann’s mind, Brand continued explaining. “Imagine if we could harness gravity to move anything—no matter how large in mass—anywhere we wanted, even into space.” Brand walked over to his blackboards.

 

“That’s what this equation—my gravity equation—aims to figure out how to do. If we could build a space station here—no, multiple stations—propel them into space, onto a new, habitable world…” he trailed off, turning to a bewildered and amazed Mann. “…Well, we could save the human race.

 

“But that’s another mission altogether. Your job—and the job of eleven others—is to find us a new home onto which we can relocate ourselves.”

 

Mann nodded, taking it all in. “Professor,” he finally began, “when we first met – you told me I couldn’t have any attachments to anyone…why—?”

 

Brand went silent, pursing his lips. “Everett,” he started, his voice low, strained, “these missions…they are a one way trip. You’ll never return home. Your chance of seeing someone, anyone, ever again is infinitesimally small.”

 

Mann felt colour drain from his face as the reality of what Professor Brand was saying sunk into his mind. There was every chance in the world that these ‘Lazarus Missions’ were merely suicide missions. That humanity could not be saved by these expeditions. Mann thought himself a logical person—couldn’t he do something useful on Earth, where he would be certain of survival?

 

Then he remembered that in just a few decades there might not even be an Earth to do anything on. His mind went back to his father collapsing in the midst of a vicious coughing fit; his mother’s pale, thin body in her bed; both dead from what the Earth had done to them. Everett knew he was likely next.

 

And he just couldn’t shake the idea of Everett Mann finding the entire human race’s new home. What if his planet was the one?

 

“I’m in,” he told Brand, not a trace of doubt in his voice.


	8. Chapter 8

“Dr. Mann,” Everett heard from down the hall, “my father wants to hold a meeting in about twenty minutes or so. For the Lazarus astronauts.” Mann turned around and saw the face of Amelia, the Professor’s daughter, more or less Mann’s age—perhaps a bit younger. She wasn’t going on this mission; she’d be going on the next, the one which intended to repopulate the best planet for human life. He nodded. “Alright,” Mann said, knowing what this would be about. The Lazarus astronauts were due to leave in six days, and a couple had begun to get cold feet. 

 

Truth was, Dr. Mann had had his doubts a few times—when he was struggling to navigate a pool of freezing cold water while in a bulky spacesuit, when he resisted the temptation to vomit during a particularly violent zero-gravity simulation—but most of all, when he thought of being totally, utterly alone. Forever. That was what scared him the most, really—the possibility that his planet, selected at random, would be sterile, inhospitable for humans. Not the idea of death—he’d long ago accepted that. Not even the potential hazards that awaited him on his new world—he’d been preparing himself for that for fifteen years. 

 

Just the idea of being alone for the rest of his life. He could certainly understand why people would not want to leave their home, their planet. But it had to be done, not just for their sake, but for the sake of the human race. Which is exactly what he told the eleven other scientists during the impromptu meeting. 

 

“I can’t do it, Dr. Mann,” Laura Miller told him desperately. “I can’t put myself god-knows how far from here. I don’t want to die on some unknown planet.” 

 

“Who says you’ll die?” Mann countered half-heartedly, not wanting to think of anyone else’s planet as habitable but his. “You’ll die here anyway—and so will billions of others, if you don’t go out there and explore.” 

 

Miller nodded slowly, sighing. “I know that,” she allowed. “It’s just…”

 

“We don’t even know for certain if humans can survive a journey through the wormhole,” exclaimed Wolf Edmunds. “Mann, you’re a smart guy; you know very well this could easily be interstellar suicide!” 

 

“I know that,” Mann replied calmly, so calm that he surprised himself. “I also know that remaining on Earth is a sure-fire way to commit suicide—I might as well take a chance out there, than stay here, knowing I’ll die.” The room went quiet, each of the astronauts reflecting on Mann’s words. They trusted him, looked up to him. They all had to leave Earth—they had no choice—and Mann seemed so…confident. 

 

It was for that reason that he had been selected as the leader of the mission—as much of a leader as he could be, in cryosleep for two years, alone on a ranger, just like every other astronaut on the mission. The meeting disbanded and Dr. Mann exited the room, walking back to his office. 

 

On the way, he bumped into Professor Brand—or, more literally, Professor Brand bumped into him. “Dr. Mann,” he said urgently, his voice breaking, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

 

“Hm?” Mann stared at him, puzzled. “Any reason—” 

 

“The equation. You must know the truth; the others don’t.” 

 

“What? What is it, sir?” 

 

“It…it doesn’t work. It can’t…we can’t. We—we don’t have enough data. Here on Earth…we can’t get it.”

 

“So…” Mann struggled to comprehend what Brand was telling him. “We can’t…we can’t even save those on Earth?” 

 

“No,” Brand replied flatly. “Do you remember plan B?” Mann nodded—the recolonization of the most hospitable planet, using fertilized and incubated embryos. It saved the human race—but it left the ones on Earth to die. 

 

“In a few years’ time, we’ll send a new expedition to repopulate our new home,” Brand went on, “but until then, no one must know the truth. I know you well, Everett—you know this is in the best interest of the human race. You know this is what must be done.”


	9. Chapter 9

Mann sat, tall, barely able to move comfortably in his spacesuit, a sensation he’d been forced for years to become accustomed to. In front of him lay a myriad of buttons and switches, all of which he’d somehow managed to memorize the functions of. It was vital to the mission—there was no room for error. He knew the drill: leave Earth’s orbit, in one of the twelve Ranger-style space shuttles. Once out of orbit, enter cryosleep and leave the ship on autopilot for two years. Enter the wormhole, and, once inside, enter his planet’s orbit, and detach from it using the landing craft—which would serve as his home for the rest of his life. 

 

Although Mann was alone, he’d still have KIPP, a blunt, practical, supposedly-morale-boosting rectangular robot, whose personality was meant to be comforting and soothing to the otherwise completely isolated Mann. KIPP would also serve to aid with the technical aspects of the mission—collecting data from the planet, for instance—but also serve as Mann’s sole companion, some small form of interaction to keep Mann from losing his mind. 

 

The rumbling of the Ranger as it launched into space, the sensation of zero-gravity, the crackling of the other astronauts’ voices over the intercom, the terrifying, violent journey through the wormhole into this new galaxy…all experiences, feelings that Mann didn’t ever want to forget once he landed on his new planet. For even though he refuse to accept anything other than the perfect habitat for human life, he could not shake the idea of death—of something happening to him during the landing. He wanted his last memories to be filled with small experiences that composed his whole 34 years of existence. 

 

Space travel itself wasn’t what amazed Mann—it was every tiny little emotion, sensation, experience, while flying that did it for him. Space was beautiful. And to think that he could have ended up a bioengineer on a dying planet; instead, here he was, billions of light years away, saving the human race. 

 

Or so he wanted to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrible at writing anything relating to action, so forgive me for a brief summary of interstellar space travel.
> 
> Comments appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

Mann’s entry into his planet’s atmosphere was relatively smooth—until the landing craft began bumping into what appeared to be immense, vertical mountains, dark and reddish in colour, with large, dark crevasses all throughout them. “How are those mountains remaining upright?” Mann questioned aloud. 

 

“Because those aren’t mountains,” KIPP replied. “They’re frozen clouds.” 

 

“This is an ice planet?” Mann thought, anxiety rising in his body. He didn’t want it to be true— an ice planet could grow nothing, and it likely would be too cold for life as he—and humans in general—knew it. 

 

“It appears to be,” KIPP answered, “but until we actually explore it to determine if there is a surface, we can’t tell if humans can survive here.” 

 

Mann said nothing, holding his breath, waiting for the craft’s autopilot to finish landing onto the ice-covered ground. Once it finally did, Mann looked outside of the window to find that the surface appeared relatively smooth and flat, if not covered in snow. He remained still for a moment, not really believing that he was on another planet, in another solar system, in another galaxy. He heard wind howling outside the ship, and looking out of the window yet again, he saw blowing snow flying at rapid speed. 

 

“We’re…here,” Mann said to no one in particular. It was hard to remember ‘someone’ was here with him—KIPP—and he already found himself speaking his thoughts aloud far more than he had back on Earth—not a good sign, if he were to be alone for years to come. 

 

KIPP opened the hatch and stepped out, his long, rectangular extremities easing their way through the snow. The wind did not appear to bother him. Mann peeked his head outside of the door and, even with his helmet on, was instantly blinded by the snow. In his left hand he held an American flag; he used his right to keep his balance in the strong winds, grabbing the ship’s door. Carefully, he hobbled out of the craft before reaching what seemed to be an even surface able to support a flagpole. Mann thrust the flag into the icy ground and watched it blow violently in the wind. 

 

Mann watched it for a moment, pleased with what he’d accomplished. He had pride in how far he’d come—not just literally, but also how he had come from a working class, poor family, destined to become something he had no interest in becoming, nothing he considered useful for the human race. And then he’d met Professor Brand. 

 

This—this icy, barren, cold world—was where he wanted to be. For humanity. 

 

Or so he told himself. 

 

He turned around, watching KIPP navigate the snow, frost beginning to accumulate on his outer frame. The sky was dark, the frozen clouds blocking any light or heat that would have come from the massive black hole nearby. His spacesuit was designed to keep him warm, but he could still feel the freezing cold wind blow past him. “We cannot survive here,” he thought, then immediately shook his head. No. He had to have hope. There was no use in assuming the worst about a place he’d just arrived at. 

 

“We have work to do,” Dr. Mann said to KIPP, walking back towards the landing craft.


	11. Chapter 11

Mann sipped his tea eagerly. Even inside his heated craft, the howling wind outside reminded him of the sub-zero temperatures he was going to have to brace every time he went outside. The tea reminded him of what heat felt like. He had been here three months—KIPP reminded him of the date every day. It was supposed to relax Mann by giving him something akin to his life back on Earth—the concept of time—but all it did was remind him of how long he’d been stuck here in this frozen hell. 

 

KIPP told him the date in 24 hour periods, just like back on Earth, but KIPP had measured the planet’s total rotation time as being 134 hours—something Mann instantly knew humans could not adapt to. KIPP had also recorded the mean temperature as being -80°C—and that was without the wind-chill. 

 

The air was laced with ammonia, and the water with chlorine. The clouds remained frozen, blocking the light, making night and day almost indistinguishable. 

 

Still Mann refused to accept the truth. It could not be—he had had a one-in-twelve chance! He’d come this far, worked this hard—surely this story had to have a happy ending… 

 

“Sir?” KIPP interrupted Mann’s thoughts, “should we retrieve the probe we launched several weeks ago?” 

 

Mann stared at him for a moment. “Yes,” he finally replied. “Let’s go.” He put on his spacesuit methodically, stepping outside and, having grown accustomed to the blowing wind, managed to stay upright. KIPP lead the way to the probe, covered in ammonia-filled snow, to retrieve the data. This probe had been to try and find a surface beyond the ice—terra firma. Surely a planet couldn’t be made entirely of ice? 

 

“I’m sorry,” KIPP began, examining the probe’s data. “There is no surface. Just more frozen ammonia and chlorine. No earth.” 

 

“Are you sure? Check it again!” Mann nearly begged, and for the first time, panic set in. What if KIPP malfunctioned? What if he was malfunctioning right now, and there was a surface that he couldn’t find? Frantically, Mann got to his knees and began clawing at the ground with his gloved hands. 

 

“Sir!” KIPP shouted, using his extremities to turn Mann onto his back. “Stop! There is no surface! I repeat: no surface! Stop this!” Mann sat up and knelt on the ground, suddenly calm. Then, without warning, he began sobbing—deep, heavy, sobs of hopelessness, anguish, lonesomeness. 

 

“No,” Dr. Mann cried, reality finally setting in. “No. Check it again.” 

 

“I’ve already checked, sir,” KIPP replied evenly, “and there is nothing new. Based on this data, this planet cannot support human life.”


	12. Chapter 12

After another month of analyzing data, the hallucinations began, the most torturous type for Mann: the sounds of ships landing right outside his craft. Or taking off, leaving him behind. He found himself spending more and more time staring outside his window. Years later, the hallucination s had never lifted; only worsened.

 

KIPP watched him intently. “Sir, it may be best if you were to sleep for a while,” he suggested to Mann one day. 

 

“Do you have that hypothetical data set?” Mann asked in response, still looking out of the window. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good,” Mann replied, walking towards his computer. The data was right there—ammonia-laden air, no surface, uninhabitable temperatures. And beside it, the data set KIPP had come up with for a habitable planet—organics, water, a surface. He clicked that one, and hit send. 

 

To NASA it would go. 

 

“Maybe I will sleep,” Mann agreed, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers and walking towards the cryochamber. As he crawled into the chamber, he distinctly heard yet another ship flying past his craft. As he prepared to sleep, tears began streaming down his face, the chamber gently, slowly filling with warm water. 

 

The plastic covering enclosed his body, as Mann tried to reflect on what he’d accomplished in the past four years; instead, he found himself thinking of his entire life. 

 

Helping his father sow seeds; getting reprimanded for questioning the lunar landing; his father telling him of other galaxies with potentially habitable worlds; his decision to join NASA; his voyage to this new world; the realization that his planet was not the one, that he would not be the one to save the human race. 

 

He remembered the data set he’d just sent out as he heard a new ship landing. It looked good— good enough that NASA was sure to come to his planet. 

 

Logically. 

 

Dr. Mann might not have been able to find the human race’s new home, but he could sure as hell ensure he wouldn’t die alone. 

 

“Please come get me,” he whispered.


End file.
